


what makes you so special?

by aliceinacoma



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 13:38:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5871664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceinacoma/pseuds/aliceinacoma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They drive each other crazy, but maybe that's why this works. / Checks in on Lydia and Stiles on the same day each year through high school, college, and beyond. Mature content in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**2013.** _

Late in the afternoon, for the third day in a row, Stiles finds himself curled up in bed with his laptop propped on his stomach, reading to devour another afternoon of Netflix; he's thinking _New Girl_ , this time. He would never admit it to anyone, but he actually thinks that show is pretty brilliant. And, well, there's no denying that Zooey Deschanel is totally gorgeous.

He sighs, passing a hand over his eyes. After the events with Gerard and Jackson, Stiles was certain he'd welcome an indefinite break from all the supernatural craziness in this town, but then again, maybe he just forgot that that it was his unwavering curiosity and penchant for danger that got them into this situation in the first place: after all, if he had never convinced Scott to go look for that dead body, he never would have been bitten, and then this would just be any other Friday night, filled with video games and midnight trips to 7-11 and fighting off the natural loneliness that follows youth like a shadow.

Maybe it's not the danger he misses (it totally is), but his best friend. Now that Scott has suddenly become Mr. Responsibility, Stiles hardly ever sees him anymore, which means lots of nights spent listlessly watching re-runs of his tv show of choice. Needless to say, it's June 3rd, and Stiles is already bored out of his mind.

He pauses _New Girl_ at the sound of three knocks upon his door. They're not strong or loud enough to be his father, but who else would it be? Curious, he sets aside his computer and opens the door to reveal a rather uncomfortable-looking Lydia, as perfectly done-up as ever. Sometimes when he looks at her, it's hard to breathe; he's not sure if that's a good thing or not.

It's been weeks since they've seen each other, which is rather remarkable, even with school out for the summer. Beacon Hills is too small for them not to run into each other on occasion. He'd begun to suspect she was on vacation. Or possibly avoiding him.

"Uh - Lydia!" he says in surprise. "What're you - uh, what're you doing here?"

"Your dad let me in," she explains in a non-answer. "Can I...?" She moves past him into his room, and as she passes by, a few stray hairs brush against his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he turns to face her. She looks around the room, curious, studying what she neglected to look at the last time she was here. Stiles curses himself for letting the mess go unattended for so long, but if it bugs her, she doesn't show it. After a moment, she perches herself on the edge of the bed and glances up at him expectantly.

"So what're you up to?" she asks, her eyes widening like they do when she's uncomfortable.

"Uh - nothing, just, watching, uh...nothing," Stiles answers, fumbling over as words as he always does when she's around. _God dammit, Stilinski_ , he thinks. _Get it together. She's just a girl._

As if Lydia Martin could ever be just anything.

"Oh," she says. "Sounds...fascinating."

"Yeah. Listen, Lydia, is there a reason why you're here?" he asks, taking a few steps towards her. "I mean, it's fine. I just -"

Lydia tucks her hair behind her ear, curling inward a little. "I just - didn't know where else to go," she admits, not meeting his eyes. Sensing the delicacy of the situation, Stiles sits cautiously down beside her.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

Lydia laughs humorlessly, standing and moving to look out the window. "Gee, I don't know, Stiles. Maybe it's that there are werewolves in Beacon Hills and my boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - turned into a giant lizard thing, and is now moving to London in a few months, and another werewolf basically took possession of my body and - oh, yeah, have I mentioned that I'm immune to werewolf bites and I don't know why?"

Stiles is on his feet before she can even finish the thought. "Okay, yeah," he says slowly. "I can see how that might be a little - overwhelming. It's overwhelming for me too, honestly." Lydia turns and looks at him expectantly. "But you know it'll be all right, yeah? No more werewolf attacks. No more giant lizards. I hope," he adds, and Lydia rolls her eyes, returning to the bed.

"I just want to be normal," she whines. "I just want to go back to how life was. Before."

Stiles returns to his spot next to her, shrugging. "I don't know. Pretty boring before."

"But at least it made sense," Lydia argues. "I always knew where all of the lines where. What was true and what wasn't. Now, I just..." She sighs, playing with the ring on on index figure, and suddenly Stiles thinks he understands something about all of the boxes Lydia Martin has put herself into. How she needs them to make sense of the world.

He places a hand over hers, and she looks up at him, questioning. "A world with werewolves and giant lizard boyfriends might be terrifying, but so is a world without them. You just have to find new lines," he tells her, squeezing her hand once. Lydia gazes at him for a moment then nods, standing and putting her bag back over her shoulder. She crosses to the door to leave but stops just before she exits.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"Just - thanks," she says simply, and Stiles grins at her.

"Anytime, Lydia." She smiles at little at this, turning and walking out the door and down the hall. Stiles falls back onto his bed, sighing. It's slowly occurring to him that, no matter how hard he tries, his plan to win Lydia Martin over might never work. Maybe there are some girls who are just never going to love you back.

"Stiles?"

He sits up with a lightning speed at the sound of his name. Lydia has appeared in his doorway again, looking apprehensive but determined. "Would you want to...hang out?"

Stiles looks at her, a little floored. "I, uh - me? I mean, don't you have, like, some party to get to or something?"

She shrugs. "Kind of hard to concentrate on some dumb party when you're one of the only people who knows werewolves exist."

"What about Jackson?"

Lydia crinkles her nose, a little sad. "I don't really want to talk about Jackson," she says, measuring him with her eyes. "And I don't think you do either." He has to give her that.

Grinning, Stiles grabs his keys and says, "Lead the way, Miss Martin."

It's only as they're sliding into his car that she turns to him and says, "Just so we're clear, this is not going to become, like, a regular thing."

Stiles shakes his head. "Whatever you say, Lydia."


	2. 2014.

_**2014.** _

It's 8:30 on June 3 when her doorbell rings and Lydia, somewhat reluctantly, abandons her book on the intricacies of anti-matter and gets up to answer the door. Doing so reveals none-other than Stiles Stilinski, hands in his pockets, sleeves rolled up to just the spot Lydia has always thought makes his arms look best.

Leaning against the door frame, she asks, "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

Stiles tilts his head, brow creasing. "Uh, no. I just - why would something be wrong? Is something wrong with you?"

Lydia rolls her eyes. "No. It's just, we figured out the druid situation, didn't we?"

"Yes?"

"Then why are you here?"

Stiles runs a hand through his hair. "I thought we could - hang out," he says apprehensively.

"Us?" Lydia says, skeptical. "Hang out?" Stiles shrugs in response. "We're not friends, Stiles," she answers slowly.

"You know, hard as though this might be for you to admit, we kind of are."

How much she wishes he weren't right. She's struggled, so valiantly, this past year, to keep herself from becoming friends with Stiles, but the truth is, he's the only one who can possibly ever keep up with her, and she with him. They were bound to fall into each other's company at some point, especially with Scott and Allison so all over each other all of the time.

Sighing, Lydia bites her lip and looks Stiles directly in the eye. "What'd you have in mind?"

...

"Mini-golf?" she questions, quirking an eyebrow at Stiles as they drive up and park outside of the local mini-golf park. Stiles shrugs, grinning a little.

"Don't blame me, it's was Allison's idea," he says, indicating the point about twenty feet away where Allison and Scott wait, leaning in for a brief kiss that turns into some definite frenching very quickly. Lydia rolls her eyes, but can't stop her grin.

"Well, I'm totally going to beat you," she says, confidently. "In fact, I'm going to beat all of you."

"Ha," Stiles answers, turning the car off and throwing open his door. As they meet at the hood of the car, he says, "You might very well beat me, I give you that. Not that it's much of an accomplishment. But I think you're forgetting that Scott is a werewolf and Allison a very-talented werewolf _hunter._ There's no way you're beating them."

Lydia's grin widens as they saunter their way towards their respective best friends. "Yes, but _you're_ forgetting that mini-golf is really all about geometry, and there's only one math genius here." Glancing over towards Allison and Scott as they near the two, she catches them mid-kiss once again, and suddenly, a thought occurs to her.

Flipping around, she hits Stiles rather violently on the arm.

"Ow! Lydia!"

"Hey!" she snaps, pointing a finger in his face. "Is this a double-date?" Stiles looks at her like she's grown a second head.

"No!" he answers. "I can't believe you just hit me -" At her eye roll, Stiles adds, more calmly, "It's not a double-date. Just four friends, hanging out, doing normal, teenage things that don't involve werewolves or druids or - whatever. If Scott and Allison choose to eat each others' faces off the entire time, well, that's their problem." He makes a face. "And I guess ours, too."

Lydia sighs a little dramatically. "It's too bad," she says, turning around to once again head towards Allison and Scott.

"Uh, what's too bad?" Stiles asks, following her.

"It's just - if this were a double-date, _we_ could spend the entire time sticking our tongues down each others' throats, just to get back at them," she says, grinning a little mischievously, and she doesn't have to look at Stiles to know he's stopped moving, his jaw slack, a little bit dumb-struck.

Sometimes, messing with Stiles is almost more fun than solving mysteries about ancient druids.

But only sometimes.

...

For the record, she wins mini-golf by a landslide.


	3. 2015

_**2015** _

It starts with a phone call, and ends up somewhere very weird.

"Stiles, I'm hanging up now," Lydia threatens as she strolls down the aisles of Bed, Bath, and Beyond. It's only June 3rd, so, yes, probably a bit early to start the hunt for college-related necessities, but Lydia Martin is nothing if not prepared.

"No, no, no, wait, Lydia, please - just an hour. Give me one hour. Just check out the house with me and then we can - I don't know, do something normal, go to a movie or something," he begs.

She'd be lying if she said the idea of a truly _haunted_ house doesn't intrigue her at least a little bit, but after everything else that's gone on this year - the werewolf war, for lack of better term - she's ready for a break from all the running and screaming and mysteries. Just time to remember what it's like to be a normal teenager before going off to college, where the supernatural will, hopefully, not abound.

But Stiles knows when he has her, so when he utters the final, "Please?" she sighs reluctantly, knowing there's no way she can deny him. She hates that he's learned to so easily manipulate her.

"Fine," she relents.

"Yes!" he breathes. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

" _Okay_ , god. If you keep saying, 'thank you,' I'm going to change my mind," she huffs. "Just - meet at my house, okay? Twenty minutes."

She'll probably regret this, she thinks as she hangs up. But then, when was the last time she said that and actually meant it?

...

The line for the movie - the new _Wonder Woman_ , skillfully directed by none other than Joss Whedon - is long, so they spend about ten minutes waiting outside the theater, and that's when it happens. That's when everything changes.

Who knows what it is exactly, maybe just something in the air or the feel of the evening summer breeze on her back, but she is suddenly acutely aware of Stiles' every move. Turning to look at him as they take another step up towards the ticket counter, she hones in on the way his tongue slides once over his lips. It's the most common of actions, especially when it comes to Stiles, but it's like she's never noticed it before, the quickness of that tongue, the precision he uses in wetting his lips, how much she'd like to just lean up and mingle her mouth with his -

Lydia shakes her head, forcing herself to look straight forward. What on earth was she just thinking? Better yet, what on earth did she just almost do?

"Uh, Lydia?" Stiles says, disrupting her thoughts. "You, you gonna move forward?" He's stepped forward with the rest of the line and is turned back, looking at her expectantly, those big, brown, puppy dog eyes of his as adorably wide as ever and -

 _Dear god, Martin,_ she thinks. _Just shut up and move._

"Yeah, yeah of course," she says, stepping up to join him. Stiles looks at her levelly.

"You okay, Lydia?" he asks, and when she glances at him, however briefly, there is genuine concern on his face. God, how she hates that. The way Stiles somehow manages to be more authentic than anyone she's ever know. How she thinks it's kind of, totally, one of the sexiest things she's ever encountered in a guy -

_Wait. Sexy?_

Her heart is racing a thousands miles a minute at this point, and she knows she still has to answer his question, but she can't quite recall how to make her lips form words. Since when did she start thinking Stiles was sexy, anyway? After all, this is _Stiles_ for god's sake; he's like the dorkiest, least sexy person she's ever met.

Except for those beautiful arms. She sneaks a glance to her left to the spot where Stiles has rolled up his button down to reveal his forearm. There's just something about the way his muscles tense that make her wish he would shove her up against a wall and fuck the hell out of -

"I'm fine!" she blurts out, too loudly. The people behind them shoot her irritated looks before resuming their conversations, and Lydia composes herself, eyes wide. "I'm fine," she says more quietly. "I just - I just realized I told Allison I would call her, and I forgot. So just, uh, get the tickets would you? Here!" She thrusts her credit card into his hand, careful to ignore the way her skin burns when it brushes against his. She's rushing toward the bathroom before Stiles can protest.

Allison answers her phone on the third ring, sounding all-too-relaxed on her vacation in Oregon. She's been gone for a week and a half, and Lydia's begun to suspect she's never coming back.

"Hello?"

"Quick question -"

"Lydia?"

"Obviously. Now, question: has Stiles _always_ been attractive?"

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line. "Lydia, are you okay?"

"Argent! Answer the damn question!"

"Okay!" Allison answers snappily. She sighs. "I mean, speaking objectively, sure. Stiles is very cute. You know, in a dorky, puppy dog way. But still, very cute. Why do you ask?"

"And this isn't a recent development? Like, he's always been like this?" Lydia asks, twisting a lock of her hair and completely ignoring the question. By this time, Stiles has bought the tickets and is waving them in the air, walking towards her. He runs a hand through his hair, and Lydia whimpers quietly at the gesture.

"Uh, yeah. Lyds, what is wrong?" Allison gasps. "Oh my god, do you have feelings for Stiles?"

"Feelings?" Lydia asks, incredulous. "Please. As if." He's getting closer, and Lydia can feel her time running short of this conversation. "But I think I'd like to fuck his brains out," she adds quickly. "Allison, I gotta go. He's here."

Allison laughs, bright and cheery and free. "Well, you let me know how that turns out."

"I will. Bye!" she says with false cheer as Stiles approaches, holding out her ticket and her card.

"Talking about me?" he says, teasing.

"No!" Lydia snaps, then forces a laugh. "Why would we ever talk about _you?"_ She storms away, and Stiles follows in her wake, calling out a, "I was just joking!"

It's going to be a long evening.

...

The movie is good, or, at least, she assumes it is by Stiles' reactions, but Lydia, for the life of her, can't possibly pay attention with him sitting so dangerously close to her. His left hand dangles off of the arm rest, and it's all Lydia can do to keep imagining what it might be like for that hand to reach over just a few inches and crawl its way up under her skirt -

She shakes her head.

 _I am in so much trouble,_ she thinks.

When the movie is, finally, over, Lydia practically storms out of the theater, Stiles jogging to catch up with her. He grabs her upper arm to slow her down.

"Woah, woah, Lydia, what is wrong with you tonight? Did you not want to see _Wonder Woman_ or something?" he asks as they stand in the middle of the parking lot. "You know, we could have seen something else, if you really wanted to."

"No!" Lydia insists. "No, I really liked it. I wanted to see it." She bites her lip, looking up into his eyes, and something in her center goes very still, like he's managed to calm all of the nervous energy from earlier. She sighs. "I'm sorry, Stiles," she says. "I don't know why I've been so weird. Just -" She shrugs, grabbing a hold of his arm to direct him towards the car. "Let's just go back to my house. I promise I won't be weird anymore."

Stiles grins. "You're always weird."

"Hey!" she protests, smacking him in the arm.

"Ow, goddammit, Lydia."

"Don't 'goddamit, Lydia' me. You totally deserved that."

...

Stiles is perched at the end of her bed, emphatically reliving his favorite battle sequence of the movie, when she finally gives in to her unmanageable and inexplicable desire by just leaning over and kissing him.

It was too hurried, she'll think afterwards, the kind of kiss that looks so pleasantly urgent in the movies but in actuality is just a bit too messy to be as picturesque as it seems. She'll think this as she fails to fall asleep later that night, her fingers ghosting over her lips like it might conjure Stiles back into her bed. But despite its haste, the kiss itself might actually be the best she's ever given in her life up to this point: passionate, spontaneous, done with real _feeling_ instead of the manufactured desire she used to occasionally practice with Jackson. And Stiles, for all his hapless teenage boy issues, gives as good as he gets.

She really should have expected that, she thinks. After all, Stiles can do nothing dispassionately. Every move he makes is infused with _too much feeling._ And while this might disadvantage him socially on occasion, in terms of kissing, it is definitely an asset.

Lydia suddenly wonders why she never tried this before.

When she finally pulls away, Stiles' mouth is already moving again, fumbling over words. "I - you, uh. I mean, what, what are you doing?"

Maybe she should roll her eyes. Push him away. Give up this - whatever it is, experiment. Sophomore year - hell, even last year - before they really became friends, she would have done just that, and how. But now she can't help herself; she grins ever-so-slightly.

"What does it look like I'm doing, you idiot?"

"Uh -"

"Don't answer that. Just -"

He takes the hint - and the opportunity - by ducking his head to kiss her once again. His hands struggle with where to go, exactly, but eventually his left hand tucks itself into her hair, thumb brushing lightly against her cheek, while his right hand alternates between caressing her thigh and making its way, however slowly, up her shirt.

Quite frankly, Lydia has never been so turned on in her life. It's almost embarrassing.

Which is why she pulls him back onto the bed. Why she doesn't protest when that right hand finally makes it up to and under her bra. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine Stiles - who, she's fairly certain, despite his brief fling with a girl named Becca this past year, is still a virgin - would be as good at this as he is, but then, maybe that was a bad assumption to make in the first place. When she was with Jackson, she always wished he would do a little less touching and a little more _listening,_ because, as many caresses as he offered, he could never find exactly the right _place to just_ -

But Stiles? Stiles knows how to listen. And not only listen to what she says or to what makes her moan in just that particular way, but to her body, to how it reacts when touched like this or kissed like that. Every move they each make is done with extensive communication. And, amidst all this, Lydia finds she really _trusts_ Stiles. More than maybe any man she's ever known. She hates that this revelation doesn't terrify her as much as it probably should.

So when he slides her panties to the floor and settles his head between her legs, it is only with the slightest apprehension that she sits up and says, "What are you doing?"

Stiles pulls away from her slightly, taken aback. "Uh - I, well, I mean, do you not want me to?"

Lydia bites her lip. "Oh. No, it's okay. I mean, you don't...have to."

He licks his lips once, coming to a decision, and then he looks her dead in the eyes when he says, "I kind of want to."

The assurance in his voice is so sexy that Lydia thinks she might just climax right then and there, and just like that, _she_ wants him to do it, too, even though Jackson, the only other boy who ever even _tried_ eating her out, as per her request, could never quite get it right. But despite any previous failed attempts, she wants this: wants Stiles' mouth to travel that close to the center of herself.

But then, of course, he's Stiles, so he has to break the tension by saying, "I mean, I've never - never done it before, so I can't promise it'll be any good, but..."

Lydia bursts into a fit of giggles, covering her face in her hands and flopping back onto her bed. Stiles' laughter joins hers, a little nervously, until she has composed herself again, after which she props herself back up on her elbows and says, "Well rule number one is: If you're about to eat a girl out, don't ever tell her you might not be good at it."

Stiles laughs in response. "Yeah. I guess that kind of, uh, ruins the mood, huh?"

Lydia's grin softens, and she sits up fully, leaning over to press her lips to Stiles' once again. "I think it's time for you to go," she murmurs as she pulls away.

He can't mask the disappointment he so clearly feels. "Oh. Okay. I - yeah, sure." Standing up, he straightens out his clothing and looks back at her, unsure of what to say next. "But, uh, would you - I mean, no pressure or anything, but would you want to - you know, do that again sometime?"

Lydia quirks a brow, giving him a quick once-over. "I thought that was obvious," she says, walking him to her bedroom door.

Stiles still looks confused. "So, is that a yes?"

She shrugs, a smirk forming in the corners of her mouth. "My mom's going out tomorrow. Won't be home til late. It'd be a shame to waste all that precious time with this big house all to myself, now wouldn't it?" She pulls him down to her once again for a final kiss, shoving her underwear into his front pocket. And then she shoves him out the door, turning around to collapse onto her bed. The grin on her face won't go away like she wishes it would, because Stiles might be a _great_ kisser, but that's all. Right?

Groaning, she buries her head into her pillow.

What on earth has she just gotten herself into?


	4. 2016

_**2016.** _

By day four of Sebastian Kane - if that's even his real name, and Lydia is beginning to highly suspect that it's not - ordering everyone around, Lydia is ready to claw his eyes out.

When he first appeared to them, it was a a rescue; vampires aren't something they've ever had to deal with before, so when he rose up from the mist a la Buffy the Vampire Slayer and took down the blood-sucker that was chasing them down, they were all incredibly grateful. Some, like Lydia herself, were perhaps too grateful, and maybe just slightly caught up in the way his dark curls fell so messily over his eyes. He's certainly quite a catch, physically anyway - tall and fit with piercing blue eyes and cheek bones that could leave you with a paper cut. It's just that every time he opens his mouth, Lydia nearly has a hernia.

It's not the quality of his voice - which is like a haunting melody, of course - but more the fact that he's a total douchenozzel who thinks he knows everything when he knows so very little.

Plus, if he calls her 'babe' one more time, she's going to personally tattoo it on his forehead.

"Don't you think you might be over-reacting a tiny bit?" asks Allison as they slide out of her car and make their way up the stairs to Derek's new apartment. (Not that Lydia's counting, but it's his third one in two years; that boy could really do with some stability.)

"Not really," Lydia responds, ringing the call button.

It's Stiles who answers. "You've reached the Derek Hale Home for Supernatural Freaks and Loons."

"Let us up, you dork," Lydia responds.

Shuffling is heard in the background. "Stiles, what the hell -"

"I was just trying -"

"Well do us all a favor and _stop_ trying." Derek's voice becomes clearer over the intercom: "Come on up, guys."

The door buzzes open.

"Look," Allison says as they enter the building and ascend the staircase. "All I'm saying is does your aversion to Sebastian maybe have a little bit to do with Stiles?"

"What do you mean by _that_?"

"It's just," Allison sighs. "I mean, I like Sebastian. He seems...I don't know, cool, but I will be the first to admit he's kind of a dick to Stiles.

It's not untrue. Since Sebastian's appearance, Stiles has been pushed out of attack plans and mystery outings left and right, and though he tries to hide it, it's obvious to Lydia that it's starting to make him at least a little self-conscious.

But still.

"I don't see what that has to do with _me_ ," she says, and Allison grabs her arm, stopping them just outside Derek's door.

"Come on, Lydia. You _care_ about Stiles. It naturally hurts you that Sebastian is hurting _him."_

Lydia frowns. "What? No way. Allison, I appreciate your concern, but I am _not_ in love with Stiles."

"Oh please, Lydia. You guys spent nearly every waking moment together last summer, and I've _seen_ the way you look at him: it's like he - walks on air. And I know for a fact that you two texted each other every day this school year, despite the fact that you go to schools halfway across the country from one another. Please don't tell me last summer was really about sex."

Lydia squares her face, smiles, and pats Allison on the shoulder. "Really, Allison, I know it might seem the opposite, but really, Stiles and I are _just_ friends."

Allison brushes off her hand and crosses her arms over her chest. "Fine. But just remember _you_ were the one who brought up being in love with Stiles, not me." She opens the door to Derek's apartment, and Lydia follows her inside, bemused.

...

"So everyone understands the plan?" Sebastian asks, rolling up a map on the table.

"Uh, yeah, just one question," Stiles pipes up. "Where am I going?"

Sebastian sighs, barely restraining an eye-roll. "Ah yes. Look, mate. I thought, maybe, you could sit this one out."

"Again?" Stiles asks, attempting - and failing - to not look as crestfallen as he obviously seems.

"Look, I'm sorry, Stan -"

" _Stiles."_

 _"_ Right, Stiles. We just don't really... _need_ you."

Finally, Lydia can't take it anymore. They've all put of with Sebastian's patronizing ways for far too long, and this is the last straw. "We don't _need_ him?" she demands from her place near the couch. Every one turns to look at her in surprise. "Says who?"

"Look, darling," Sebastian attempts to cut in, but Lydia throws up a hand to cut him off.

"Just - ugh - no! Stop it. Just stop calling me that!" Taking a breath, she plunders forward, "Why me and not Stiles? I'm no more useful than he is. Why do I get to come, if he doesn't?"

"Babe -" She glares at him and he clears his throat, beginning again, "Lydia, you're practically a walking dead-person-detector. I'd say that's pretty useful. Plus, you can always act as bait, if all else fails."

From behind her, Lydia hears Allison's very distinct scoff, but she brushes off the comment. This isn't really about her, after all; it's about Stiles.

"Well, if Stiles can't go, then I'm not going," she says. Turning to everyone else, she adds, "And if you all were decent friends, you would too." Scott looks a little guilty, then says, "She's right, Sebastian. There's no reason not to bring Stiles."

"Reason? Of course there's reason!" Sebastian responds, scoffing. "The truth is - and I'm sorry to say this so harshly, Stiles, but it just has to be said - Stiles is only going to drag us down. He's too _human._ He's got no superpowers, no...useful skill, as it were."

"No - ?" Lydia takes a deep breath, feeling the anger bubbling up in her chest. "Sebastian Kane, we have put up with your bullshit for nearly a month now, and quite frankly, I'm sick of it. We were doing just _fine_ before you showed up and started - strutting around like some over-groomed peacock! Stiles has been helping us solve these mysteries since we were _sixteen,_ so either he stays or I go, and trust me when I say that the others won't stick around long." She's worked herself up into a barely-controlled rage at this point, nearly nose-to-nose with Sebastian, and she can't even think enough to bite her tongue before she adds, "And, for your information, Stiles most definitely _does_ have a superpower - "

"Uh," Stiles interjects. "No. No I don't."

" - and that is that he has the unique ability to make a woman orgasm not once, not twice, but _three times_ in the same ten minutes, using only his _mouth._ Somehow, I'm sure that's far more than you can say for yourself."

She looks Sebastian up and down once, then steps back with a dignified sort of huff, and only then does she realize that the room has gone very quiet. Horrified at what she's just revealed to such mixed company, she adds, "And now I am going to go bury my head in the ground."

Turning on her heel - and ensuring that she looks at _no one_ \- she very quickly exits out the door from which she came. As soon as the door shuts heavily behind her, everyone breaks out into peals of incredulous laughter. Only Allison even attempts to hide her smile behind her hand, throwing Stiles a sympathetic look.

"Well, congratulations, buddy," Derek says, patting Stiles on the back. "That is _quite_ the accomplishment."

"I hate you," Stiles says, deadpan. "I should probably go - check on her." He trails off, crossing towards the door.

"Don't be gone too long," Isaac calls. "Then again, apparently it only takes you a few minutes, so regardless, we're going to assume you guys had sex."

Stiles flips them all off as he exits the apartment.

...

Lydia is on the roof, as he expected, with her head buried in her hands when he finds her. For a moment, he doesn't say anything, just studies her as she looks up and out into the town. The sunset bounces so perfectly off her strawberry locks, bringing out their golden tint; her beauty really is the kind detailed in poetry and songs. How many ways has he contemplated telling her that? How many times have the words failed to pass his lips? Maybe beauty like hers is the kind that cannot be spoken about. Or maybe he's just afraid of the way she'd laugh at him if he ever tried to tell her all the thoughts that he passed through his mind.

Finally, he joins her at the edge of the roof, leaning next to her on the railing. "Hey," he says.

She glances at him and takes one very embarrassed breath - if there is such a thing. "Oh, god. Stiles," she says, passing a hand over her eyes.

"Well, that was - quite the exit," he says. "Though next time you want to give a recommendation on my behalf, you could give to, you know, girls I'd like to sleep with instead of our supernatural best friends. You know. Just a, uh, thought."

Lydia sighs, chuckling a little. "I'm so sorry, Stiles. I - don't know _why_ I said that. Sebastian just makes me so - _errrgh -_ so _mad!_ And I just opened my mouth, and _that_ was what came out! I mean, god, it wasn't even true - "

"Uh...it wasn't?"

"Well, it was more like fifteen minutes."

"Ah."

"But it doesn't even matter!" She buries her head in her hands again. "I am _never_ going to live this down."

"Well, at least you were sexually satisfied?"

Lydia glares at him throw her fingers. He grins sheepishly, then adds, "Hey, for what it's worth, thank you."

She puts her hands down slowly. "For what?"

"For sticking up for me. That - that means a lot, Lyds." Tentatively, he reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, lingering perhaps too long. They haven't really touched each other but a few times since returning home from college. They're not the type to hug, and since they've stopped sleeping together, most touches are too intimate for the type of friendship they have: the supernatural-fighting, mystery-solving kind. A touch like this is unexpected and almost too much. _I miss you,_ it says.

"Of course," she murmurs, not breaking eye contact. They stay like that, gazing at each other, for a few precious moments, as if each daring the other to make the first move, but just as it seems Stiles might buck up and actually do something, Lydia pulls back, clearing her throat and tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Well," she says, a little too loudly, breaking the spell. "We better get downstairs. See if Mr. Sebastian Kane has changed his mind."

Stiles grins softly. "You go ahead. I'll be down in a minute."

She looks back at him. "You okay? Should I - "

"No. I just need a minute." The softening of his eyes reminds her of late-night liaisons from last summer, the way he looked at her when she would remind him this was just a casual thing, as if he didn't really believe her. Maybe he shouldn't have; she never really believed herself.

Shaking her head, Lydia grins brightly (she's so _good at that_ ) and nods at him. "Okay. Well I'll see you downstairs."

She leaves before those thoughts can pass back through her mind.


	5. 2017.

**_2017._ **

His hair is longer again, she thinks, gazing over the top of the 'N' shelf. Like it was their junior year. Last summer he'd gotten it cut, which frankly Lydia thought was a damn shame. He looked so much better this way.

Not that she has any opinion about the way he looks, of course.

"Are you gonna actually look for  _The Notebook,_ or are you just gonna keep staring at that guy over there?" Chris - her current, super-hunky, super-smart, future lawyer boyfriend who's visiting from Boston - whispers in her ear suddenly, making her jump.

"Don't do that!" she hisses, smacking him on the arm.

Chris smirks, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Who _is_ that guy, anyway? Your other boyfriend?"

"One of many," she teases, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Jealous, Christopher?"

He glances over at Stiles again. "Of that guy? I don't think I have much to be worried about."

The blow she wasn't expecting strikes somewhere just above her diaphram, and she tenses suddenly, not of her own volition. She struggles to hide the fact that his words have affected her in any way, which is ridiculous because it  _shouldn't_ be affecting her like this. Why should she care what Chris thinks of Stiles? He is, after all, very much in the right on this matter; between Stiles and Chris, Chris would clearly win any day.

Still, it doesn't explain the odd flush to her face, or her sudden irritation at the boyfriend who has never been anything but absolutely perfect for her.

"That's just Stiles," she says, putting her arms by her sides and turning back towards the shelves of movies to scour around for _The Notebook._ Or, rather, _pretend_ to scour around for _The Notebook_ while actually continuing to study Stiles from a distance.

"Stiles, hmmm," Chris says, pondering. "I don't think you've mentioned him before."

No. No she hasn't. It's been a very glaring oversight in all of their conversations, and Lydia knows it. It's not even for any good reason, either. Sure, it's been a while since she and Stiles have talked - March was the last really good conversation they had - but it's not as if they had any big falling out or anything. They merely fell victim to the curse of college: less time, and honestly less energy, to focus on friends back home. The busier school got, the harder it got to find time to chat. And once Chris had been added to the mix, it became all the easier to find convenient excuses to just...forget to call.

But still - she should have at least _mentioned_ Stiles to Chris at some point. Next to Allison, he's her best friend in Beacon Hills. Or was, anyway? At this point, she honestly has no idea.

It's not like she didn't have opportunities, either. Countless numbers of her stories about home involve him, and many of them _sans_ werewolf. But for reasons Lydia can't explain, every time she would tell Chris one of these stories, she'd simply...forget to include Stiles in the cast of characters. Maybe it's just that, even to this day, there is something about Stiles that can't quite be put accurately into words; he is just too precious to possess that way. Or maybe it's that Chris, much as she adores him, will never be able to understand Stiles the way she does, so it's easier to keep him to herself.

(She doesn't even contemplate the third 'maybe,' but she knows it's there.)

"Yeah," she finally says, glancing back over the shelf. "Well, Stiles is just... Just," she settles on lamely.

Just is a horrible word to describe any person, she thinks, but most especially a boy with such big, brown eyes.

"Well, are you going to go say hi?" Chris asks, playing with the hem of her shirt. "You said I could meet your friends."

"Oh," she says, considering. It's a daunting prospect, going over to the boy she spent almost the entirety of senior year running around demon-hunting with. She hadn't imagined their summer reunion happening quite this way; if she was honest, Chris was no where in the equation, and the scenario involved lots of pizza and bad horror films, but if there's anything Lydia's learned, it's that nothing really goes quite as planned when it comes to Stiles.

 _Buck up, Martin,_ she thinks. _It's just Stiles. What are you so afraid of?_

She doesn't answer that, but she doesn't take Chris' hand as they walk around the aisle and over towards Stiles, either.

"Hey there, stranger," she says, tapping him on the shoulder. "Long time no see."

She can't help her grin when he turns to face her, both genuinely surprised and ecstatic. "Uh - Lydia!" he cries, embracing her quickly. "It's so - wow, it's so good to see you!" He begins to run his fingers through his hair but stops mid-way as he notices her watching him with a tiny grin. The last time they saw each other, over Christmas break, he'd mostly given up the habit around her; she didn't really make him nervous, anymore. And why would she? They've been through hell together, on multiple occasions.

But that was months ago, and they're practically different people.

"How - uh, how've you been?" he asks now, putting his hand back to his side.

"Good. Really good. I - " She wants to say something, anything, that will make up for all the lost months between them, but she comes up empty. It's only been a few but suddenly, standing here, it feels like a year. "Um, you? How've you been?"

"Good. Great. Glad to be, uh, out of school."

"Oh, yeah, me too."

"Yeah. It's my first week back in town, so I'm, um, getting movies for a movie night with my dad. Y'know." He glances behind her, careful. "Who's, uh...?"

"Oh!" She'd honestly almost forgotten Chris was behind her. She grabs him by the arm and pulls him forward. "Uh, Chris, this is Stiles. Stiles, this is Chris, my - boyfriend." The word struggles to pass her lips, and she watches Stiles for the tell-tale signs of heartbreak that she's seen before when he's seen her around with other boys, but she's grateful to find that he looks less-than-surprised. "He's visiting for the next two weeks."

"Yeah, Allison told me you were seeing somebody," Stiles says, reaching out a hand to Chris. "Nice to meet you, man. So, uh, how're you liking Beacon Hills so far?"

"Good! However, you are the first of Lydia's friends I have yet to meet," Chris responds, giving her a loving pinch. She rolls her eyes. "Though I do hear good things about this Allison character."

"Oh, yeah, Allison's great. You know, if you can tear her away from Scott long enough to have a conversation," Stiles jokes, and Lydia groans.

"Oh god. I was hoping they were over that."

"Uh, Scott and Allison? They'll never be over it. I've started sitting in between then when we all hand out to avoid incidental groping."

Chris chuckles. "I take it they're big into PDA."

Lydia sighs. "You'll see when you meet them."

"And then you won't ever be able to _un_ -see it," Stiles adds, grimacing. Lydia giggles softly, and there is a brief pause before Stiles says, "Well, I should get going. Don't want to keep my dad waiting. You guys, uh, you have a nice time with your movies." He looks directly at Lydia. " _The Notebook,_ I presume?"

"Ah, so she made you watch it too?" Chris asks, grinning. Stiles snorts.

"Lydia pretty much literally makes everyone watch that movie."

Lydia rolls her eyes. "Whatever. You totally loved it."

She could tell the story of the first time they watched it together, that bizarre and somewhat magical summer after high school. The way Stiles cried, and she held his hand without teasing him about it. The way they kissed later, in the rain, trying to recreate the movie cover. They hadn't had sex that night, just laid on her bed, not speaking, her head against his chest as she listened to the thrumming of his heart.

"Yeah," Stiles says, shrugging, but she can see in his eyes that he remembers it all too. "Well - night." He nods and turns to head to the check-out counter, but as soon as he's there, Lydia has rushed forward to halt right next to him, leaving Chris alone a few years away.

"Stiles," she says hastily. "I just...wanted to say that I'm - sorry. I mean because we haven't _talked_ recently and I, um..."

Stiles stops her with a hand on her shoulder. "I've missed you too," he says, perfectly summing up exactly what she was trying to say. She grins.

"Of course you did," she says triumphantly. "Call me, okay?"

He salutes in returns, grabs him bag of movies, and is out the door before she can utter another word. When she finally makes her way back over toward Chris, he is gazing at her like he suddenly sees her so much more clearly.

She frowns. "What?" she asks, pushing her hair behind her ears in discomfort.

"'Just,' huh?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow. It's not accusatory; if anything, it's a little sad, like he can see things she can't possibly understand yet.

She says nothing in response, though. Just frowns a little hard and flicks her hair over her shoulder, glancing at the door Stiles just used to exit as she resumes her hunt for a movie.

In the end, they don't get _The Notebook._ It's really just a bunch of bullshit, anyway.


	6. 2018.

_**2018.** _

Jamie Matthieu is a leggy, geeky goddess with glasses that have just the right amount of quirk to be adorable. She has been the highlight of the evening, impressing everyone with her dynamite wit.

Lydia hates her.

Absolutely, irrationally _despises_ every cute little bone in her body, and the worst part is that Lydia has no idea _why._ Stiles is clearly smitten with the girl, and, as one of his dearest friends, Lydia wants to be happy for him. Instead, she just cringes every time Jamie opens her mouth.

Of course, it could be due to the fact that Stiles has largely ignored her since he arrived with Jamie on his arm. Before this _girl_ appeared in his life, _Lydia_ had been Stiles' girl, the one he dropped everything for on a moment's notice. Not in a boyfriend kind of way; in a - best friend kind of way.

Well, apparently her BFF has other priorities tonight.

Kissing him is never her intention, but when he walks - very much alone - into the kitchen where she's getting more ice, it's suddenly all she can do to throw herself at him very furiously and practically devour his face. She notes fleetingly how he does not instantly push her away the way he probably should, how he reciprocates for about fifteen seconds before he gets his wits about him and breaks away, taken aback.

"Lydia! - what are you doing?" he sputters.

She pulls him close by the lapels of his jacket. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

She gets another five seconds of lip action before Stiles pushes her firmly but gently away.

"Lydia!" he snaps. "Stop it!"

She frowns. "Why? What's wrong?"

Stiles looks at her like she's grown an extra head. "I - you - _I have a girlfriend_! You know, tall, glasses, way too hot to be dating me, currently sitting _in the next room_?"

Lydia blinks once. "So?"

" _So_?" Stiles demands, incredulous. He runs a hand through his hair. "God, what the fuck is your problem?"

Lydia scoffs. " _My_ problem? I am just trying to make out. _You_ seem to be the one having some sort of moral dilemma."

Stiles shakes his head. "Lydia, look. You have to stop this, okay? I am in a relationship with Jamie. If that upsets you, well, I don't know what to tell you because that's just how it is."

She rolls her eyes. "Jeez! Fine. I wasn't trying to steal you away from her or anything! I just..."

"Just...?"

"I just - I don't know. I missed you, I guess."

Stiles lets out a pained breath. "Jesus, Lydia."

" _What_? _What_ is so wrong with that?"

"Don't you get it, Lyds? You are _using_ me. You've _been using_ me since we were _eighteen_! And I'm done. I can't do it anymore. You know, I can't just be the guy you use to cheat on your boyfriend with - "

"Chris and I broke up!"

"Not now. In December. I told you what I wanted then, Lydia, and you told me that you couldn't do that, remember? And if that's really true, then you've gotta let me go. You've gotta stop this."

She does remember. She remembers Stiles' eyes, red-rimmed from a barrage of tears. She remembers the way his hands slipped from hers as he turned on his heel and made his escape. More than anything, she remembers how empty her room felt when he'd gone, how dark the corners looked.

Biting her lip, Lydia comes to a decision. "What if it wasn't true?" she asks quietly, and she thinks the state of the world hangs in the balance, entirely dependent upon the next words out of Stiles' mouth.

There is a tense moment where they stare at each other, daring the other to take that leap of faith they so desperately need, but in the end, Stiles just glares at her, sighing in a way Lydia can only define as 'disappointed.'

"Don't do that," he snaps. "We both know that's not true."

Lydia doesn't correct him; hell, she doesn't even know if he's wrong. She doesn't know much, apparently, when it comes to Stiles.

Looking up at the ceiling, he continues, "Look, Lydia, I love you. You know that. God, I've been in love with you since - I don't know, third grade. I'll - I'll probably always be in love with you. But if you're really never gonna feel the same, then you've gotta let me go." Only after he's spoken his peace does he dare to look at her again, and Lydia wishes she knew whether she was dreaming up the hope in his eyes.

Would it matter, either way? She's always been a coward. Isn't that what all the make up and perfected, pretty-girl facade has been about?

Her breath is shaky when she answers. "Yeah," she says, but it doesn't feel like the truth, not quite. "Yeah." After a pause, she adds, "She must be something special."

The look in Stiles' eyes is more resigned than bitter, like he's always known this is a losing battle. "She is," he assures her without elaboration. Taking a step toward her he says, carefully, "You know I'll always be there, whenever you need - anything. But you - you're never gonna want me the way I want you. You have to let me at least _try_ to be happy."

He's right, of course, the way he usually is. He's right about everything: about how she used him for sex, to feel better about herself, as an excuse to break up with her boyfriend. Of course, Chris had seen it coming; he'd seen the cheating not as an excuse but as a symptom of a larger problem in which it was the only way for her to act out her love for Stiles without the danger of a truly fulfilling relationship.

"Just don't let it go too long, okay, Lydia?" he'd said just before they parted. "I know it's - terrifying - offering yourself up like that to the one person you need most to accept you, but I promise you - it will be so worth it, in the end."

Lawyers. They really could talk themselves in circles.

So Stiles is right on this point. But Lydia has never been one to admit defeat, so she says nothing, just marches out of the room, furiously, wiping away tears she hadn't realized she was crying.

(Wasn't it Stiles who once said she was beautiful when she cried?)

...

His stomach is churning dangerously when he slides into the car; it feels like he's just lost Lydia forever, which, while perhaps better for his mental health, is certainly no good for his heart.

Jamie notices right away, just like he hoped she wouldn't.

"You okay, hun? You look a little pale," she says.

"Fine! Yeah, I'm fine, just - tired," he says lamely.

She smiles. "Well, it was worth it. It was so fun meeting your friends. They're all awesome." She frowns. "I do wish I had gotten to talk to Lydia more though."

Stiles glances over at Jamie, curious. "Lydia? Uh - why her?"

Jamie shrugs. "Oh, I don't know. You just - I don't know. You just talk about her so much. She's important to you; she should be important to me."

For maybe the hundredth time, Stiles thanks the universe that he accidentally picked up Jamie Matthieu's copy of _Blade Runner_ instead of his own. He's thankful beyond words that somehow this gorgeous, smart neuroscience major has any interest in him at all. So he leans over and kisses her, with all that gratefulness.

"I love you," he says as he pulls away.

It's not the first time he's said it to her, but he thinks it may be the first time he's meant it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully transferring this here will make me finish it. It desperately needs to be finished. For Lydia and Stiles' sake.


End file.
